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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631910">RNBY: Before Beacon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicky_Omega/pseuds/Vicky_Omega'>Vicky_Omega</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RNBY [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anti-Faunus Racism (RWBY), Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Creatures of Grimm - Freeform, Dysfunctional Family, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Fight Scenes, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Genderbending, Gun fights, Little Brothers, Prologue, Swordfighting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:42:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicky_Omega/pseuds/Vicky_Omega</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruben Xiao Long-Rose.</p><p>Pyrrha Nikos.</p><p>Blake Belladonna.</p><p>Yang Xiao Long-Rose. </p><p>Four bright teens. Four aspiring heroes. All aiming to make the world a better place, each lesson at a time at the prestigious Beacon Academy: ancient Monster Hunting school and the birthplace for some of mankind's greatest heroes. While they hope to be among them, every hero has a (Relatively) humble beginning and these four are no exception.</p><p>Watch them in the in brief flashes of their lives as they grow and change before meeting their destiny within the walls of Beacon Academy...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna &amp; Adam Taurus, Blake Belladonna &amp; Ilia Amitola, Ghira Belladonna &amp; Adam Taurus, Ghira Belladonna/Kali Belladonna, Ozpin &amp; Salem (RWBY), Raven Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose &amp; Summer Rose, Ruby Rose &amp; Taiyang Xiao Long &amp; Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose &amp; Yang Xiao Long, Sienna Khan &amp; Ghira Belladonna, Summer Rose &amp; Yang Xiao Long, Summer Rose/Taiyang Xiao Long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RNBY [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. MOTHER & SON, WRATH & PRIDE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Mankind - a stubborn group of ingrates. Unappreciative of the gifts that their creator-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Their <strong>mother</strong> gave them. It was thanks to <strong>her</strong> design, that both races - Faunus and Human - were mighty, resourceful, ruthless and cunning.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Then her children took it upon themselves to tear it all down.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>While humanity benefited from their meddling - producing kingdoms and civilisation, advanced weaponry and technology, and being able to access the slightest bit of <strong>her</strong> magic in the forms of Dust, Aura and Semblance - glory had slipped from their grasp. </em> <em>Her kin’s expectations and childish defiance tricked them and Mankind abandoned their Mother and had forsaken everything she gave them. Lured in like lambs to the slaughter through promises of strength found in unity, light and other fickle ‘virtues’. They know they can never truly achieve those things, but they try. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong>Foolishly</strong>.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She <strong>had</strong> to punish them for their insolence, sending the creatures of Grimm - born from their own pain and hate - to them.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But they clung on.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Oh, how tightly they clung.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>To their precious guardians, to their hope. They dared to believe that they could delay the inevitable.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A disembodied voice chuckled into the void. Laughter flying overhead and landing on a sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“I see the centuries have not been kind to your mind, <em>mother</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“My dear <em>son</em>,” hostility dripped from her lips, “do you have nothing better to do than to gloat?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, your… <em>skewed</em> perception of reality was quite interesting to listen to and I couldn't help myself.”</p><p> </p><p>The ‘mother’ hummed, <em>“Skewed?”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Why yes; the way you ignore reality is hilarious! Surely you know that the bitterness in that charred, black, rock you call a heart is what caused Man's defiance. Mysti, Atalan, Vaucen, Vallan and I merely gave them the choice, a tiny nudge in a different direction.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“How-” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The ‘son,’ interrupted her, uncaring of the fire he ignited, “Do you find it easier to lie to yourself, mother?  You know that the power that our creations posses can easily destroy us, you fear them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <strong>fear</strong> <em>nothing</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing but them it seems, they are the only creatures on Remnant capable of challenging your weakening magic.” </p><p> </p><p>“Do not mock me, child!” the void shook because of the deep bass of the scream, “Hold that tongue of yours and perhaps it will be the last thing I <em>rip</em> from you once I regain my strength!”</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky me.”</p><p> </p><p>“<strong>There is no victory in strength</strong>, but you stupidly believe that they could <em>ever</em> challenge me; Man has no power, Ozma, not in mind or body! Have I taught you nothing?!”</p><p> </p><p>Mother’s voice echoed, trailed by harsh breathing. Her son kept quiet. They looked at each other, seeing the other’s form for the first time in a millennium. The son sighed. Twenty thousand years weighed on his mind and shined through his wet brown eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps you are right, but victory doesn’t always need strength or power to be gained.”</p><p> </p><p>The image of his mother faded slowly away, but he couldn’t let that be his last word. </p><p> </p><p>“Our magic is diminishing mother; Humanity will no longer need us soon enough - but what they do need and what they <em>will</em> have is the might of a <strong>small and honest soul </strong>to guide them."</p><p> </p><p>She disappeared. But her sneer and burning red eyes - stuffed full of hate - stayed with him. Straining his heart and etched in his mind. Looking down at his ageing body, he could only exhale as he too faded away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>“That is where they will find victory.”</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. RED LIKE ROSES</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <h1>
    <strong>
      <em>Summer Rose </em>
    </strong>
  </h1>
  <h1>
    <em>'Thus Kindly, I Scatter'</em>
  </h1>
  <p> </p>
</div><hr/><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Snowflakes danced in a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. Blood red petals, produced from a rose-red cloak, fluttered toward the inky sky – joining the wind and snow in their dance. Under the steady glow of the full moon, the words etched into the tombstone nipped at the heart as the air nipped at tanned skin. The headstone, personalised with a rose engraving above the verse, lay at the summit of a cliff. Nature’s paws attempted to ensnare it, but love and dedication kept its grasp at bay. It was the memoir for a warrior, bursting with stories. A reminder of a protector of hope and justice. A reminder of a devoted wife and dedicated mother.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">A possibly dead mother now. </span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Withered white roses lay at the base. Few petals could escape their stems, but it was no matter. A gothic figure, a young boy and barer of the cloak, held new flowers in his gloved hands – the moonlight enhanced the glow of the bouquet. He chucked the decaying roses off the cliff and gently replaced the new ones. From his Silver Eyes, a tear slipped, but he held a watery smile on his face. He removed his hood in respect. His hands fidgeted and his mouth gaped like a fish, unsure of where to start. Deciding to sit down on the frigid ground, he settled on what to say.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">“Hey, Mom.”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The boy's  - Ruben Rose - form relaxed, and he swiped away his tear.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">“Yang couldn’t be here today, she said she had to go Vale for something, <em>hopefully,</em> nothing illegal,” He rambled, “but she’ll say goodbye before she leaves, I promise!”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Ruben fidgeted in excitement, “She’s going to an awesome Huntress, knocking out Grimm with a little one-two! Oh, and I lined Ember Celica’s chambers with Flame Dust to give the bullets some <em>extra</em> kick!”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">He paused, placing thumb and finger on his chin.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">“Well, as long as she doesn’t put Wind Dust bullets in there, she might lose her hands; if she does it will be the <em>Arm-</em>ageddon for me, eh?”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The wind whistled in his ears.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">“Yeah, I’ll leave the puns to her.” The boy cringed before his face brightened up, “You’d be so proud of her– and Dad too - he's gotten much better, less like Uncle Qrow in the <em>'how fast can I destroy my liver'</em> race. But, he still finds it hard to get up sometimes.”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Ruben’s voice wavered, “I do too when I remember-”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The boy locked his jaw and his wolf-ears flattened against his skull. Roughly, he swallowed his emotions. Then he raised himself to a knee and kissed his fingers. As he rested them on the stone, he stood tall.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">“I’m sorry, this was supposed to be a happy visit, I didn’t mean to ruin it.”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">With the flick of his wrist, Ruben’s face hidden by the cloak’s hood.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">“Love you, Mom.”</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The noises of the world melded into a single melody as the boy stared at the tomb.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">He waited.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">He hoped for a sign - <em>anything</em> to prove that his mother was still around, one way or another.</span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Patient, as he let the bitter wind ripple through his black clothes, causing the chrome accents to frost over. His poor toes in his black leather boots stiffened. His chrome bracers froze and tightened. No force would break his concentration. But no sign came, like the years before, and he walked away into the black of the woods. </span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The bare branches spiked into the sky - no sign of life found anywhere. Only the faint glow of the snow and his heightened canine senses guided the boy through the dark. Ruben knew that despite the overall silence of the woods, his journey would be anything but peaceful. Perhaps it could be if he kept calm and left his emotions at the gravesite.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Perhaps he would be less miserable if he wore <em>something</em> under his waistcoat.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">But melancholy is the cloak one can't just shed. It clings on, yet it refuses to provide warmth or comfort. It always dragged him down to the point of heartache. Summer taught him to think of his emotions like a great orchestra. Sometimes it was quiet and allowed him to function, at other times the violins would play and he would be sad, then at other times it would rise to a crescendo and the anger would burst from his chest in a vicious shout of anguish. During his trek through the woods, a soft guitar and thundering drum harmonised in the depths of his mind, and he could remember her with fondness. However, with each memory the cape of sorrow got-</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Twigs snapped.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Faunus ears twitched. Ruben walked onwards. The music became daunting.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Then, growling. </span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Unnatural, tainting the soul with the coarse, icky sound alone, growing in commotion as Ruben neared a snow-dressed clearing. </span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The noise gained form. </span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Creatures with ink-black fur towered over the small Faunus. Their dark hairs made it difficult to decide where the beast began, and the silhouette ended. Sharp and shining candies lay bare before the boy as barks and grunts rang out, communicating that they should spread out, circle around, and cut off any means of escape. The boy tilted his head at the action. </span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Ruben rested his hands on his back and walked on. </span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Seemingly angry at the nonchalance of their prey, the eldest of the pack jumped to strike. His large paw striking true upon the boy’s head.</span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <em>Until it didn’t.</em>
  </span>
</p><p></p><div class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Instead, rose petal fluttered in the breeze. The pack scoured for their prey and one looked towards the moon. The black cherry-haired male was there, eyes closed, and a silver light shimmered over him. Surrounded by fallen rose petals – gravity pulling all down. Ruben didn’t emote as he looked down at his predators.</span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Not even as he whipped out a thick, compact rifle and cleaved the head off one of them with a single bullet. </span>
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The beat of the melody changed; upbeat and rapid, silencing the ringing gunshot. </span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Rose rolled into a gunner position. Hand steady on the bolt. Fingers poised to press. The Grimm pack stormed towards him.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The leading wolf?</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Dead in two shots.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Dashing over the corpse, the Faunus shot one round into the chest of another beast. He fought against the recoil by firing another round behind him and slid on the ice to keep momentum. With one more shot, he killed the aggressor, then fell on his back to slip between the legs of another. He heel-kicked into a spin, sending up a storm of red roses.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Six shots fired.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Three Grimm dead.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">His wolf-ears twitched, and he blocked a strike. As the force of the impact shoved him backwards, he pressed a black button, switching his rifle into a single-edged greatsword. Better known as Crescent Rose Blossom (CRB or Crescent Rose +B). The steel flashed like the eyes of its wielder, eager to stamp out the darkness. More Grimm swarmed the area in response. </span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Once again, Ruben rushed into the fray. </span>
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">He met every slice, jab, or stab with a slice to the stomach or the loss of a limb as he slid on the ice. </span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The beast he was aiming for got its arm pinned towards its chest by CRB’s dagger-like crossguard and the tip of the blade logged in his chest.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The Beowolf glared.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The boy smirked; the rhythm had picked up in tone.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">With the flick of a trigger, CRB carved its way out of the Grimm. Chunks of blood, fur, and rose petals flew onto the field.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Ruben’s grin grew.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Crescent Rose +B flourished, spinning with its master in an intricate dance. Silver bullets rained down from the sky and sprouted from the ground. Limbs and corpses faded with the winter gale and red roses stained the snowfield. The red cloak danced like a ribbon caught in a gale while silver eyes flashed in joy – almost manically - but a powerful element of analysis of the situation within them. </span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Ruben backflipped away and bowed; he beckoned the Grimm closer with a cheeky finger. Falling for the bait, the Grimm drew near as the boy strolled without care towards them. Again, he slid under the legs of a Beowolf, cutting its leg off. Rose smirks as the others got into a tizzy. A few more slices and Ruben used the recoil to slide away, pressing the button again. The sword shifted once again to form a scythe twice his size: Crescent Rose - Full Bloom (CRFB or CR: FB).</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">At that point, the Fledglings should have given up, but young Grimm aren’t known for their intelligence.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Strings and brass fused into the orchestra, slamming the soul with the rhythm of battle.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Music soared through the air like an eagle on an updraft, taking with it the very souls of the listening audience. Not a difference could be made between the strums of the guitar and the swing of the scythe. Gunshots and air whips called more Grimm to the battle but no force could conquer the whirlwind that was Ruben Rose and his beloved scythe. </span>
</p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="XzvDs hLcpP public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The music turned serious as a few slashes were too close for comfort despite Ruben's best attempts to maintain distance. But one snagged him - his arrogance swiftly punished. Pain shuddered through Ruben as he flew backwards, rolling through the snow. As he skidded to a stop, his eyes widened: a horde of Fledgling Beowolves had gathered, feral and riotous. Despite the impending feast that they would make out of him, he paid the monsters no mind.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <em>‘They actually got a hit on me.’</em>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Shocked, gloved hands caressed the injured spot. Thanks to his Aura, there was no damage to his body (he should really get an undershirt – his family’s style of clothing was many things, practical wasn’t one of them) and his cloak-</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">The cloak was torn – from the clasp to the hood.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">They <em>tore </em>it<em>.</em></span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Silence – no music, not a noise.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Burning rage hissed through the boy’s body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. It was like a volcano erupting; <em>fury</em> sweeping off him like ferocious waves. Pure Silver-Eyes were the window to the dangerous storm inside and, for the smallest instance, they <em>shone</em>. Subdued in the presence of such power – the Grimm backed away.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <em>'Too late for that now!'</em>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Ruben ripped out the empty magazine – replacing it with a Gravity Dust mag. And pressed the trigger. Like his rounds he shot forward at the horde, struggling to keep his speeding feet on the ground. With one last shift, the tool extended into a war scythe allowing for eardrum-shattering speeds.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">In a single twirl, four Grimm got decimated.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Then five. And a few more.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">Eventually, Rose stopped counting as he let out his rage onto the unfeeling monsters, whipping his weapon in tandem with his mind, the music and his emotion. He slid along the ice for the final stretch then plunged the end of the scythe into the ground. Ruben kicked away the idiotic demon wolf before decapitating it with a series of spins. </span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">It rained bullets and rose petals. Appendages and carcasses that littered the field faded into Dust. All that could be heard was the tired huffs of a boy and the daunting silence of a forest with n</span>
  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">ot one Grimm in sight.</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">And the Silver-Eyed boy?</span>
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  <span class="vkIF2 public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">He <em>smiled.</em></span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. NIKOS, THE PYRRHIC VICTOR</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When all else fails me, with my sword - I speak, with my shield - I listen. My soul shall guide me to my destiny.</p><p>*Schatzi means 'Little Tresure' in German.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Our reputation is on the line with this battle, <em>Schatzi</em>, you cannot fail - not here, not now.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, mother,” a small demure voice replied, “It just, my Semblance has been going haywire; what if I hurt someone or-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Pyrrha!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry!”</p><p> </p><p>The metallic changing rooms felt a deep chill wandering through it. Muted cheers erupt like an auditory volcano in the arena. Quiet one second and then deafening the next, rising to a crescendo and then falling to a trickle before the same nervous tension commands silence once more. Pyrrha kept glancing towards the door, waiting for the obnoxious announcer to reveal that it’s her time to perform. The older woman she was with noticed and shook her head, her chestnut locks shifted with the movement.</p><p> </p><p>Pyrrha’s birth mother, Pandora Nikos, studied her red-haired spawn who was dressed in a gold-brown Northern Mistralian armour and greaves, with a golden circlet and red sash to finish the look off. One could mistake the teenager for a graceful warrior. And they wouldn’t be wrong – but the unease she projected tainted that idea.</p><p> </p><p>Pandora refused to tolerate it.</p><p> </p><p>She knelt to the younger Nikos’ level and sighed, “From the moment I looked at you, Pyrrha, I knew I had birthed a being destined to be a warrior – a hero, even,” She grasped her daughter’s gloved hands, “I have worked hard to make sure your skills could match that destiny – your Mom spent hours during the night helping you succeed at school and crafting weapons for you – we have given all that we are to make you succeed, and you want to give up the opportunity we gave you?”</p><p> </p><p>Shame-filled tears pricked Pyrrha’s eyes as her mother stood to present the two infamous staples in her life.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Ótan den ypárchei epilogí, me to spathí mou - Miló.”</em> Pandora handed her a triple-shift xiphos that bore swirling etched patterns on its red and gold surface, <em>“Me tin aspída mou – Akoúo,” </em>then Pyrrha was handed a golden Dipylon-style shield “Wield them well, your Mom worked hard on them.”</p><p> </p><p>The teen studied the tools in her possession. The weight was just as heavy as the expectations.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, mother.”</p><p> </p><p>The older Nikos raised her hand, contemplating if she should place a comforting hand upon her offspring. She settled for a cough.</p><p> </p><p>“Good luck.”</p><p> </p><p>Pandora marched away as Pyrrha watched, face locked in a permanent frown. Once the door slammed close, Pyrrha stumbled onto a bench - a small autumn coloured speck occupying a gigantic room, but the moon shone on her. Chunks of the celestial rock spread from its main body, but the light still blinded her with its own judgment and so much more.</p><p> </p><p>Metal rattled in the space, getting louder. It sounded more terrified than cold. Nikos snapped her head around to look for the source, to get it to stop because the <em>noise of anxiety was more than enough to deal with!</em> She clenched her fists until her nails dug into the palm over the weapon, but she barely noticed. The only thing she is aware of is the sound of her heart throbbing against the cage of her chest and that <em>bloody</em> rattling. Indecipherable noise refused to silence themselves and filled her ears, louder and lou-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Good evening, Mistral!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A tidal wave of screams and cheers rose, almost deafening all that heard it. The rattling got noisier.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“It has been one spectacular tournament this year, with Miss Pyrrha Nikos being one of the Championships’ youngest finalists in 10 years - simply incredible, wouldn’t you agree?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nikos couldn’t help a smile at the thought her Mom would be the rowdiest fan in the VIP seats, reminding everyone in the vicinity <em>‘that’s my baby!’</em> and her mother being utterly embarrassed but too in love with her wife to tell her to stop.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“However, the young Nikos must take on the veteran champion, Heracles Olympium, if she wants a chance to gain the title of ‘Mistral Regional Tournament Champion’!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She didn't but-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“It’s time to bring our warriors out!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A security guard with the dark shades, earpiece and all, opened the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Time to go, Miss Nikos.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl stood, albeit awkwardly. She paused and looked at herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>The rattling was from her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The spotlight was a brilliant path through the dark sky as if a hundred million stars had joined up to make it - a bright dream beamed upon the stage as if the future already knew she would win, hitting her skin, greeting her inner fire. People filled the stadium to the brim although, the Faunus took the least space in a thin strip surrounded by humans.</p><p> </p><p>Pyrrha walked onto the stage, a graceful and approachable façade fixed in place, and waved to the crowds. In response, the audience members competed with the cameras over who could grab her attention first. She paid them no mind as she saw her Mom, Tessa Nikos, screaming in the front seats as she predicted. For once, a genuine smile appeared as she looked at her red-haired parent linking hands with her sterner brunette one, celebrating her success. Guilt pricked her heart before the audience’s tone shifted at the arrival of Heracles. </p><p> </p><p>He was a northerner like her, the armour style proving as much. But one apparel of his made him stand out: the helmet-mask of a Nieman Grimm Lion. The cloak it came with was fake, but the bones were real. Those types of Grimm were rare and deadly in Mistral. Many died trying to kill them, let alone take its bone mask.</p><p> </p><p>Looking at his hands as they flourished an iron club, Kounáo, Pyrrha didn’t doubt that he could have defeated one without his weapon or Semblance.</p><p> </p><p>Soldiers surrounded the arena (an age-old tradition, forbidding opponents from leaving combat). They slammed their foot-long spears into the ground three times before pointing it at Pyrrha and Heracles.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ready, little one?”</p><p> </p><p>His voice possessed an unnatural gravitas. Ladies probably collapsed at the sound of it.</p><p> </p><p>“As I’ll ever be.”</p><p> </p><p><em>“Combatants!”</em> The announcer interrupted, <em>“Get ready!”</em></p><p> </p><p>The younger one bared Akoúo in front of her. Miló poised to strike. </p><p> </p><p>The titan stood still.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Begin!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The younger warrior dashed forward - her blade in spear form. Heracles deflected it with the flick of his hand and brought Kounáo overhead. She rolled away with barely any moments to spare. The club cracked the platform a quake upsetting the stage and Pyrrha stumbled to keep balance. Her opponent wasted no time to swing his weapon, forcing the girl to raise her shield. She slid back to the edge of the arena. The soldiers stepped forward when she looked at them. </p><p> </p><p>Pyrrha knew that in just those opening moments that she couldn’t win this fight with her honour intact. Not without her Semblance. But there was too much to lose to admit defeat. She wouldn’t <em>dare</em> with her mother watching.</p><p> </p><p>She motioned her hands to add extra weight to Heracles’ swing and threw Akoúo into his exposed side. Miló switched into a rifle as Olympium recovered and took potshots at him. Confused but not put off, the giant stomped towards Pyrrha, hardly reacting to the bullet barrage, and swung again. The rifle couldn’t endure the attack, and Pyrrha fell to her knees. Pain rippled through her body when the man kicked her to the side. She backflipped into a stand with a spear in her hand and skidded over to pick up her aspis.</p><p> </p><p>There was stillness on both sides. If conflict were visible, the air would have been scarlet.</p><p> </p><p>Then movement.</p><p> </p><p>So much force in every one of Heracles' blows. Perpetual fear stiffened the younger’s movements. Speed and agility should have overwhelmed the formers brute strength. But she was watching. She was expecting.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You cannot fail, Pyrrha.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“After all we’ve done for you, you want to give up?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Enough!” </p><p> </p><p>She growled to herself and she leapt towards her opponent. Heracles stormed towards her, missing as knocked Kounáo off course. But as she moved, Akoúo slammed into the Grimm helmet – cracking it.</p><p> </p><p>Pyrrha landed and looked on in shock.</p><p> </p><p>Some spectators hissed in pity.</p><p> </p><p>Herculean fingers caressed the damaged armour – his hairy face still.</p><p> </p><p>Then a scream.</p><p> </p><p>Seismic quakes rocked the stage as Heracles hunted Pyrrha. He lost all sense of control and awareness. Kounáo as his guide through the madness. The girl couldn’t keep up.</p><p> </p><p>Left.</p><p> </p><p>Right.</p><p> </p><p>Flip back.</p><p> </p><p>Block.</p><p> </p><p>Her body could only move so much.</p><p> </p><p>And with one miscalculated jump, Pyrrha went flying across the arena.</p><p> </p><p>Pain seared through her abdomen better than a branding iron, her mind conceded to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion. The teen’s body curled into something fetal, something primaeval, and agony burned and radiated in her. Her Aura would take a while to heal the bruise. Miló lay beside her, urging her forward. She gazed at the Aura indicators overhead. </p><p> </p><p>20% for her, 23% for the brute.</p><p> </p><p>Achieving a clutch win wasn’t impossible, but she couldn’t even stand; why she should bother?</p><p> </p><p>Judgment. Honour. Reputation. Destiny. Pandora’s rising disappointment.</p><p> </p><p>It gave her all the incentive.</p><p> </p><p>And her Mom.</p><p> </p><p>Worried and so full of love and support.</p><p> </p><p>How could she consider defeat for an instant? This was not a battle she had to win. But a battle to prevent loss for another day. Pyrrha knew what she had to do.</p><p> </p><p>Heracles cooled off and kept his distance. Honour-bound to let his opponent recover. As Pyrrha limped into a stand, emerald eyes stared into aquamarine. Fingers clinging onto the weapons.</p><p> </p><p>Two entered the arena that night.</p><p> </p><p>Both on their last levels of Aura.</p><p> </p><p>Only one can be the victor.</p><p> </p><p>And Nikos made sure that the victor was her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>4 YEARS LATER</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“… and with another fantastic win, I don’t think there’re any parents prouder on Remnant.” Pandora stood in an Atlas coloured gown, champagne glass in one hand and holding her wife’s in the other. A crowd of the ‘great and powerful’ stood similar chutes in their hands, in a sleek white living room, red tiles and golden lights and décor. </p><p> </p><p>Tessa couldn’t help herself, “To Pyrrha!”</p><p> </p><p>“To Pyrrha!”</p><p> </p><p>The girl in question remained humbled by the praise (by some god-given virtue). She bowed her head, but her genuine smile didn’t last when her parents looked away. Allowing herself to be paraded around as an attraction for the gratification of her mother.</p><p> </p><p>She was stuck in a dream, struggling to get back to reality. She screamed out for help, but nothing came out of her mouth as she sank deeper and deeper within a sea filled with her expectations. As she reached the bottom, she knew no-one was going to save her; no knight in shining armour, no Prince Charming. So, she zoned out, answering and greeting guests on autopilot, forgetting about the world. This loneliness and autonomy was a vice on her heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain. The reason she struggled to breathe when a new shock comes. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Where is the limit? When comes the point at which I call the dogs off and be normal?’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As she sunk deeper into her existential crisis she heard “Pyrrha, if you have a moment?”</p><p> </p><p>A lion Faunus – smartly dressed, crowned with a full tan mane and beard - waved her over. He stood beside another man, an aura of mystery about him.</p><p> </p><p>It was… unsettling.</p><p> </p><p>His star-white, shaggy hair framed his face, bringing out his brown eyes behind his glasses. One was the youngest Hunter Academy Headmaster of his generation and the other the first Faunus Headmaster of Haven Academy: Professors Willis Ozpin and Leonardo Lionheart.</p><p> </p><p>Exhausted and miserable, Pyrrha smiled as she walked over to the duo, “How may I help you, sirs?”</p><p> </p><p>“No need to be so formal, my dear, I was just telling my good friend, Oz, that you would be an incredible student at Haven.”</p><p> </p><p>Ozpin hummed and swirled his cocoa, “Is that what you were doing?” He glanced at the teen with a sassy smirk, “I believe you were begging me not to-” </p><p> </p><p>“I did no such thing; you have no proof!”</p><p> </p><p>The Valian Headmaster chuckled into his cup before continuing, “You never know, Miss Nikos might want to go to Atlas Academy,” He squinted at her a flicker of a grin popping up on his visage – his dark eyes, too old for his face, betraying his wise sage persona, “From your mother’s speech, I assume you plan to follow in her footsteps and perhaps join her in the army, sounds like a grand plan, does it not?”</p><p> </p><p>The girl gasped.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Join Mother in the army; follow in her footsteps?’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dread owned her, pushing against her like an autumn gale. Grasping, scathing, freezing, slimy tendrils of pure fear ensnared her heart. It had Pyrrha’s stomach locked uptight. Nothing getting in or out.</p><p> </p><p>Pyrrha snapped back into reality, swallowing, “W-well, Professors, I think-”</p><p> </p><p>“-that is a <em>marvellous</em> idea!”</p><p> </p><p>The Atlesian matriarch of the Nikos household placed a gloved hand on her spawn. Oz raised his brow at the great effort Pyrrha took not to flinch and correct visible flaws before her mother could point them out.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure that the General would welcome her with open arms.”</p><p> </p><p>“If she doesn’t pick Haven first; who wouldn’t want an aspiring huntress like your daughter here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, <em>Schatzi, </em>will have her hands full this year with the application season.”</p><p> </p><p>Once again, the younger Nikos zoned out, a habit she developed when her mother mapped out her life without her consent or input. She backed away with a sigh and strolled out to the balcony.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling the cool wind in her hair, Pyrrha sighed – defeated.</p><p> </p><p>“It seems like Pandora has everything planned for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Too tired to be stunned by Ozpin's sudden appearance, the girl hummed.</p><p> </p><p>He studied her, “You don’t seem too keen.”</p><p> </p><p>“I gave up fighting her years ago, Mom has too,” she almost wiped her face before realising that she was wearing heavy amounts of makeup and would risk looking like a monstrous clown if she did so she shook her head, “I’ve resigned to the fact that my future is her choice now – so much for a great destiny.”</p><p> </p><p>They stared at the pale ¾ shatter moon. Whispers carried on the wind and chatter from the party sung in the background. Oz fiddled with his jacket’s inner pocket before whipping out a white envelope, the Beacon Academy/Kingdom of Vale insignia waxed onto the front. Nikos looked at the older man, wondering if his age was catching up to him.</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t have to remain the case, Miss-” he halted and smiled, “Pyrrha; you have already performed feats beyond what any entrance exam I could have given you so…”</p><p> </p><p>Cautious but intrigued, she took the envelope.</p><p> </p><p>“… I look forward to seeing you at initiation; until then, Miss Nikos.”</p><p> </p><p>The Headmaster sipped his cup, flourished his cane and walked back into the party.</p><p> </p><p>A great weight lifted from her shoulders. She stood taller. Her presence lighter, more carefree. She noticed how the white light of the stars in the sea of midnight blue twinkled. Hardly a competitor for the light of the moon that eclipsed them, but they tried.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Like I will.’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As she made her way to the exit, she broke into a run to her bedroom. A girlish grin spread onto her pale cheeks.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am so sorry about this chapter - I wanted it to be much more than this. However, the characterisation of Pyrrha (and others) are more important here because that is the focus of her character in this series. We know she's great at combat but I wanted to explore the character outside of 'Jaune's (not) girlfriend'.</p><p>P.S. the artist is mojojojoj (thank IHateBumblebee for clarifying)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. BLACK, THE BEAST</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From shadows, we'll descend upon the world. But at what cost?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the longest chapter so far with 7,500 words! This took me 3 bloody months to write. Thank God that Yang is the last one left, I'm about ready to collapse!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><h2>
  <strong>MISTRAL: SOUTH COAST - The Wild, Illegal Settlement</strong>
</h2><hr/><p> </p><p>“Sir, there’s too many of them – we have to turn back!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not even the Salem Witch can stop me from seeing my son’s birth – now <em>move!”</em></p><p> </p><p>A hulking Faunus stormed through the storm of streaking bullets. His molten gold eyes owned untold level of rage and conviction. His brown boots trampled over the debris and exposed mud under the concrete, staining his beige slacks and marking his skin.</p><p> </p><p>But he didn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>Scrambling for freedom, the unarmed Faunus hid behind bombed-out homes and collapsed trees. Some wept for the skeleton of their decrepit hometown. The streets of the Ghetto that once thronged with life stood wild and smothered with chaos. Gone were the food vendors and the women in their bright clothes selling handmade goods from carts and baskets. Gone were the child-cubs who played amongst the crowds with their games and laughter. Gone were the stores with their windows of fine clothing or delicacies. There were cracked sidewalks and empty gun shells strewn about. Starving looters and overzealous soldiers laid waste to damaged storefronts. Screeching volleys of gunfire became a constant companion for all.</p><p> </p><p>But the one leading the charge didn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>As devastating as the disaster was, his priority was the protection of the helpless. Then he stopped, proud and tall atop a dune of rubble. With the flick of a wrist, he whipped out a silver flag. The hailstorm of plasma bullets tampered out.</p><p> </p><p>“Ghira, don’t!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hush!” He raised his fist; his people fell in line.</p><p> </p><p>Studying the source of the ruin, shining eyes narrowed.</p><p> </p><p>The Mistralian Army. They hid within trenches (or sat in or on Atlesian weapons) circling an airstrip. Surrounding the only way out. All their artillery trained on the group of ten dozen civilians and two dozen armed soldiers. These people – Humans included – could die if he wasn’t mindful.</p><p> </p><p>A murmur emerged from the opposing party before a shout:</p><p> </p><p>“What are you playing at, Belladonna?”</p><p> </p><p>Ghira didn’t waver.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m issuing my right as a Mistralian citizen; with this flag, you are honour-bound to listen to your combatant’s peace terms, is that not the case?”</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>After a few moments, a human military unit marched towards the Black Leopard Faunus. Their legs moved in perfect timing, synchronised by an inaudible beat. Each black boot made precise steps, one hand holding their bayonet rifles on their shoulder and the other swinging to the beat of the silent rhythm. Captain Nieva Cypress led the unit – her rank signified the standard plume on her spartan Corinthian helmet, the paludamentum under her golden epaulette and the grand cuirass that protected her torso – her lips were drawn into a perpetual grimace. Ghira took a step towards them.</p><p> </p><p>“Baba!”</p><p> </p><p>An 8-year-old cried out, followed by hurried footfalls. Belladonna turned to examine his adopted son. His candy apple red hair matted by sweat, which pronounced his bull horns. His sky blue eyes peered at him, pleading for him to not get anywhere near the humans.</p><p> </p><p>“Go back to Sienna, Addy.”</p><p> </p><p>The child clung to his trunk-like legs, “No, I won’t let the demons hurt you!”</p><p> </p><p>Nieva, within earshot, snorted.</p><p> </p><p>“Bold words from a beast like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I did not wave that flag so you could insult my son, Captain.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” she smirked and gestured for him to “Declare your terms.”</p><p> </p><p>“These people need-”</p><p> </p><p>“People?” Cypress quizzed, “I see no people unless you mean the zoo cowering behind you?”</p><p> </p><p>Her men howled with laughter. Anger pulsed through his veins like fire and Ghira wanted nothing more to unleash his claws and gut the whole unit from the knaves to the chops. Instead, he hugged Adam closer.</p><p> </p><p>“We want to travel to Menagerie - this level of destruction was unnecessary.”</p><p> </p><p>“This township was an unauthorised settlement, those people were given a week’s warning to evacuate - they ignored a government order and they should’ve expected us to retaliate,” her cold winter grey pupils admired the horizon, “Besides, they were blocking the view.”</p><p> </p><p>Adam broke loose, “The only beast I see here is you!”</p><p> </p><p>Ghira drew his talons behind his back as insurance. Here, his boy was proving himself. He won’t stand in the way of that if they remain civil. Taurus-Belladonna’s eyes bore the kindling of revolution in them.</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon me?”</p><p> </p><p>“These people have nowhere else to live because your government makes it difficult to find good homes - you didn’t even give them an alternative or escort them out!”</p><p> </p><p>His little arm shook with fury as he pointed at the weaponised Regiment, “You brought and used all those weapons - you <em>wanted</em> to kill people today and <em>you</em> have the nerve to call <em>us</em> animals!”</p><p> </p><p>He lowered his arm to glare at the Captain. His glower filled with dangerous levels of hate that no child should carry.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we are, at least animals kill to survive - Demons like you kill the defenceless because they’re cowards.”</p><p> </p><p>Enraged, Nieva stepped forward, hand poised to snatch Adam’s horn. Then a hand snared her throat. Sharp nails dug into her neck, inches away from shredding an artery.</p><p> </p><p>Rifles clicked in reply.</p><p> </p><p>Green eyes glared into gold.</p><p> </p><p>Ghira’s grasp tightened.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you <em>dare</em> touch my son.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghira reiterated his request once more, calm and collected as he shoved her backwards. The Captain seethed at the titan-like Faunus. Cypress coughed and rubbed her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Let them through.”</p><p> </p><p>Her soldiers fumbled. Their subservient nature broke, and they questioned the sanity of their leader.</p><p> </p><p>“Madam?”</p><p> </p><p>Red-faced, she barked at them.</p><p> </p><p>“Did I stutter?”</p><p> </p><p>Snapping back into formation, the soldiers cleared the way. For a tense moment, no one moved. Both sides equally suspecting the other of dubious movements. Thundering ocean waves in the distance set the baseline for the tense orchestra of nature circling the conflict. Wings fluttered. Metal clinked. Feet shuffled. And the clock was ticking.</p><p> </p><p>Taurus took the first steps.</p><p> </p><p>Head held high, he glanced back at his father, took his hand, and motioned for the others to follow. A stream of refugees trickled towards the Airstrip. Years of fear made them clot together if a soldier got close. Their former neighbours reassured those tempted to run and taking comfort in seeing their own armed with rifles too. Once they were in the home stretch, the White Fang set up the plane and their cargo. With everything stashed away, the bulkheads took off.</p><p> </p><p>Every soul on board remained quiet. None dared to shatter the delicate silence. The Bengal Tiger Faunus gazed at her High Leader. He met her amber orbs, his own telling her what she wanted to know. She growled, slammed her hand into a wall and ran to gather the fighters.</p><p> </p><p>“Adam!”</p><p> </p><p>The young Faunus dashed to Ghira. “Yes, Baba?”</p><p> </p><p>“Get everyone ready for a fight.”</p><p> </p><p>“What-” The older Belladonna saw the wheels turn in his mind, “Oh, understood father.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Whipping her finger towards the retreating ships, Cypress screamed: “Bring them down – not a single mutt in those ships will leave alive!”</p><p> </p><p>Like shooting stars in the night sky, balls of flame and fury streaked across the ocean, intending to decimate the escaping refugees. His Coat torn off and a box full of Magma Dust in one arm, Ghira opened the cargo bay door and braced for battle</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <em> <strong>32 HOURS LATER</strong> </em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Sienna, look after things here – Adam, come!"</p><p> </p><p>Khan knew better to stop Ghira from tending to Kali. She replied with a sort nod and ordering the medics to check on the survivors. They had obliterated half of the ships. Only 4 of the 10 dozen had made to the Faunus Safe-Haven. The cries of children, the wails of fathers and the screams of mothers drifted to the night sky along with the stench of blood and burnt flesh.</p><p> </p><p>Adam hopped into his father’s arms and they made a mad dash from the Port to their hut.</p><p> </p><p>Night cloaked the light of the sun, but it didn’t stop lovers from strolling hand in hand, browsing, whilst housewives hustled haggled over the price of imported merchandise. Various smells wafted through the air: of slaughtered meat hanging from hooks, of baked goods, the rancid smell of body odour, the smell of manure and chicken droppings. Stalls overflowed with produce, vegetables spilt onto the muddy ground and splashed through puddles. Stallholders hollered out their special deals, customers haggling over prices. People gossiped in huddles, cacophony, bulging bags swung into people’s legs. Ghira, bruised, bleeding and struggling to hold on to his cub; paid no mind to the surrounding environment. Just distractions and obstacles that blocked him from reuniting with his family. Gasps and grunts of shock from the crowds he shoved were mere white noise. Searing fiery bursts pulsated around the wound, intensifying with each dragging step, jarring and brutal. With each step the pain amplified, the bloody muscle quivered, her consciousness ebbed.</p><p> </p><p>But he did not care.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He was so close.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>On the edge of town, by a lake, lay a cottage. The cottage hunkered low on the moor like a child in the elements trying to keep warm. Yet it looked alive and welcoming, with a thin silver trail curling from the crooked stone chimney. The sides were the same grey slabs as the low walls in the dales, and the roof was a darker slate. Screams poured through the windows, followed by demands to push. Adam wiggled out of his father’s tightened grasp and continued the sprint to his mother’s aid. Ghira stood in the cold. Mind absent from the world, his heart drove him forward to his mate’s bedside.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Newborn cries fill the room, and the father breaks into tears of relief and joy. He turned his glassy eyes to his wife and in a weak voice; he tells her they have a beautiful son. Through her exhaustion, she smiles, and she lets her eyes leave his face to take in the screeching baby. She cried the sweetest tears she’s ever known, the hours of anguish melting away. Only a few minutes old and his tiny boy roots, mouth wide, his instincts strong. The doctor and his team waved and blushed away his blubbering thanks. They remind him they’ll drop by to check on the Belladonna Matriarch the next day. The redhead inched closer, acting as if his presence would break the new child. Ghira becomes him over, then placed him in his lap next to Kali.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s your brother, Adam.”</p><p> </p><p>Their whispers danced on the wind – but the frail ears upon the baby’s head flicked in their direction.</p><p> </p><p>Taurus hummed, “I thought he’ll be… <em>bigger.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“If he were any bigger,” Kali let loose a weak giggle, “He wouldn’t come out and I rather not live through that.”</p><p> </p><p>The parents chuckled to themselves. Adam studied them and looked at his new sibling.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s his name?”</p><p> </p><p>The Belladonnas tilted their heads. Gold and blue eyes studied the tiny Faunus cub that squirmed in its mother’s hold.</p><p> </p><hr/><h2>
  <strong>ATLAS: THE ARCHITECT'S SUMMIT – SDC Headquarters</strong>
</h2><hr/><p> </p><p>Blake adjusted his purple Kurta jacket and fiddled with his tear gas mask. Fear curled up inside him and clung to his ribs, settling uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t doubt the feeling was there to stay, reminding him of its existence every time he opened his mouth to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘So much could go wrong – the Army could be set on us, I could lose Addy, Ima or Baba, what if they shoot at us or-’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A gloved hand placed itself on his shoulder. The rabbles of the gathering crowd behind him faded away as he saw pride in his brother’s clear blue eye. Hope for him and the others. And a fire, bright and scorching – even with all the suffering his hero endured, that fire never burned out. That look was all he needed.</p><p> </p><p>Today they’ll make a difference.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow.</p><p> </p><p>“You gonna be okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Glancing to his left, Blake saw his brunette friend, Ilia Amitola. Her parents, Azura and Garnet Amitola, stood nearby talking to Sienna Khan. Her blue orbs studied him and brightened when he took her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“We will be.”</p><p> </p><p>The infamous cold of air of Atlas was never an exaggeration. Even with the mighty sun bearing down on the floating metropolis, even with the fumes from all the technology rampant in the city, it remains as cold as ice. People held no smiles. Service was fast, efficient, mechanical. Sparse and infrequent spot of greenery appeared for a few seconds at most – vastly different from the teeming green jungles of Menagerie. Baby Belladonna had never seen such a gorgeous and utterly soulless scenery. Everything was monochrome, glass or a light tint of blue, from the stores to cars to clothing. There was no tinge of earthy loam to the air, no fragrance of spring growth or heady warning when rain was due. The fumes from belching vehicles underpinned everything.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘It’s so… unnatural.’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ghira, leading the charge, looked at his youngest son.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have your hat, Kit?” </p><p> </p><p>Fishing inside his satchel, Blake whipped out a black felt and leather Captain’s hat – three sizes too big. The High Leader nodded and stepped in front of the crowd of one-hundred, hands raised. Silence fell.</p><p> </p><p>“Brother and Sisters of the White Fang and Faunus and Humankind, today our march will signify our defiance of the system, of the government and hate – today we make a stand, today our voices will be heard!”</p><p> </p><p>Jeers of hope spurted out, protesters stood straighter. </p><p> </p><p>“For too long, the Atlesian government and the Schnee Dust Company have promised improvements to their treatments of the Faunus; they gave us pretty words and handshakes but nothing concrete and I say no more!”</p><p> </p><p>Blake struck the air, his father’s determination in his eyes and his mother’s hope in his stance.</p><p> </p><p>“They will understand that we are not asking for equality – we are demanding respect!”</p><p> </p><p>Another cheer.</p><p> </p><p>“I will not shame you if you leave; there are unfeeling beasts in that glass jungle and we’re about to knock on their door - if you must go, do so now.”</p><p> </p><p>No soul dared to move.</p><p> </p><p>“Well then,” Sienna chuckled, “Let’s get marching!”</p><p> </p><p>United, every protester rested their fist on their shoulder and raised it to touch the sky. Sienna and 300 more marched out of a Warehouse and towards a Schnee Dust Company Mine Operation HQ. They marched for a cause, for a reason. They marched with the anger, joy, emotion from themselves and a thousand others before them. Chants invaded the stifling air of Atlas. They forced the rich and powerful to look at their revolution. Well-dressed youth joined the riffraff in their own petty acts of rebellion. The hundreds grew into thousands. Sienna and Ghira made the call and their people cried back:</p><p> </p><p>“Show me what respect looks like!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“This is what respect looks like!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Show me what freedom looks like!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“This is what freedom looks like!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Show me what solidarity looks like!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“This is what solidarity looks like!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>For a full hour with a body of 5,000 marchers – the White Fang and their High Leaders made their presence known. The colours of their clothes, flags and jewellery popped out in the sea of greys. Blake stretched his youthful voices as far as he could; it grew hoarse and would be stinging tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. His golden eyes looked behind and seeing that crowd united, screaming the same chants created a swell of pride in his chest. As if he was leading the charge with his brother and best friend beside him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘And I will, one day!’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ghira and Sienna stopped.</p><p> </p><p>The hymns shushed.</p><p> </p><p>The battalion of guards aimed. SDC logos branded on their weapons and armour.</p><p> </p><p>Adam clenched his fist at the sight of it. His other hand seized Blush &amp; Wilt – itching to whip the blade out.</p><p> </p><p>“This,” the Lieutenant Colonel said through a megaphone, “Is an unauthorised gathering – you have three minutes to disperse or we will use force!”</p><p> </p><p>Sienna sneered at their blank faces.</p><p> </p><p>“You have no right – Grand Lieutenant Ironwood gave us permission to march!”</p><p> </p><p>“And you trespassing private property.”</p><p> </p><p>The regiment remained stoic at the outrage. While few (the Humans) left – not desiring to tempt fate – the others remained and stared down the armed guards. The upperclassmen turned up their noses in disgust, and a troop of Human miners from Mantle investigated the commotion.</p><p> </p><p>“You have one minute to disperse!”</p><p> </p><p>Ghira resumed their hymns and everyone followed suit, not budging an inch. Blake, Adam and Ilia stood tall by their parents while yelling and singing their hearts out.</p><p> </p><p>Trash and insults hurled towards the demonstrators, the rate and number increasing in volume:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Get out of here, you rabid animals!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Y’all just love to cause trouble here!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You’ve taken enough jobs – what more do you need?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The guards did nothing. Some had glints of amusement in their eyes, others smiled, more laughed. But they did nothing. A single dark-skinned man stepped forward from the crowd. Before he could open his mouth:</p><p> </p><p>“You have thirty-seconds to disperse!”</p><p> </p><p>His dark face scrunched up, his tail stiffened, and he snarled.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re harassing us and you do nothing – but performing our rights is a problem for you; what the Hell?”</p><p> </p><p>They did nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“You have ten-seconds to disperse.”</p><p> </p><p>He stepped closer.</p><p> </p><p>The miners chucked harder. Faster. Angrier.</p><p> </p><p>“You have five seconds to disperse.”</p><p> </p><p>“Could you at least-”</p><p> </p><p>A bullet spat out of a soldier’s gun, hot in the Atlesian sun. It hit the man in the chest, propelling him backwards in an awkward spin. The man fell and hit the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Seconds filled with shocked silence pass. Every eye concentrated on the fallen Faunus. Every mind wondered if he would stand. The pool of scarlet spreading out under him gave them the answer.</p><p> </p><p>The Miners ran, and the protesters scattered. Gunshots come thick like winter hail. The tin projectiles cutting through the frozen air, oblivious to their purpose. Each one rips into something, be it inanimate or living, spilling tree sap or blood with equal unfeeling. There was a time where the ones pulling the trigger might have felt something: remorse, guilt, compassion.</p><p> </p><p>Not anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Dust kicked up. People, soldiers and civilians, ran up and down the streets. Canisters strewn on the ground emitted a grey gas, blinding those without masks. It was pure chaos. Blake strained his sore eyes - the ones that cried and bled. He called for Adam, his father, anyone who would listen and rescue him. He fumbled to wear his mask, but the damage was done. Through his tears, he saw SDC's dog handler and his partner.</p><p> </p><p>They turned. They looked at him. They unleashed their dog and pointed at the young Belladonna.</p><p> </p><p>Blake ran.</p><p> </p><p>His breath came in small spurts, hot and nervous. At his sides, tanned fingers curled into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if it would make him faster. Behind him, he could hear the baying howls of the dog and jeering laughter of his hunters. Sweat dripped from his matted hair, his cat ears pressed against his h.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'Please Ozma, let me live!'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He cried aloud, throwing himself forward with even greater abandon. His lungs and heart were pumping, but the air didn’t seem to be enough as he sprinted forward, panic trembling in his exhausted limbs. A dog slammed him into the ground, but he rolled it off before its jaws could snare his neck. Blake wasn’t fast enough; the animal recovered, charging towards him – Belladonna defended his face with his forearm. He screamed in anguish as the sharp teeth of the canine dug in and tore his flesh. Blood painted the beast’s mouth, growing more in volume as Blake squirmed and shook him off. As the boy attempted to punch the beast, its handlers caught up to them. Kicks and hits from a baton bruised Blake all over – the pain was encompassing his body, but his mind gave up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘No one’s coming – I’m going to die here.’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Blake!”</p><p> </p><p>The boy had long since fallen unconscious, his body shut down as it couldn’t cope with the pain.</p><p> </p><p>Hate burned in Adam’s heart so deep that spite ingrained it in the tissue.</p><p> </p><p>Red.</p><p> </p><p>Everything went red.</p><p> </p><p>His vision blurred as a flame curled in the pit of his stomach. His brain went on overdrive as it picked every moment that he’d spent worried about his charge. The memories of his innocent and joyous brother weighed down on him, but instead of breaking, his heart turned ice cold and slunk into the shadows as his rage took complete control. The flames in Adam’s stomach rose to his chest and, crawling through his veins, took over the rest of his body. He screamed, alerting Blake’s attackers. The dog released the youth’s arm after a call from his master and charged towards Taurus.</p><p> </p><p>Before it could blink, it hit the ground, one of its forelegs missing.</p><p> </p><p>Adam sheathed Wilt, preparing for another attack.</p><p> </p><p>The two guards fired a stream of rounds at the 18-year-old, the blade absorbed all of it. The hair on the bull Faunus (and the red on his clothes) glowed red hot as did his weapon. He sheathed it, and the two guards scrambled to reload. Adam crouched low, hair and red clothing glowing white. Wilt swung out of Blush and a plasma red arc of energy thundered through the air.</p><p> </p><p>Blood splattered across the ground.</p><p> </p><p>The cleaved bodies of the aggressors collapsed in halves, more scarlet fluids gushing out from their exposed guts.</p><p> </p><p>Adam turned to his brother and ran to his side.</p><p> </p><p>“Kit!” Blake took wheezing breaths, but his eyes didn’t open, “Hey, I’m here – they won’t hurt you now, just open your eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy kept still. His brother shook him, each tremor harder than the last.</p><p> </p><p>“Wake up, damn it!” a tear fled from the lone eye, Adam’s proud voice hoarse and trembling, “Blake, please; I’m here, I-”</p><p> </p><p>He refused to look away, even as his lips trembled and his shoulders heaved with emotion, unwilling to back down. Even at the sight of his mauled little brother. His dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears; his hands clenched into shaking fists in a desperate battle against the grief. Another tear traced down his cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. He wept; loud, heaving sobs tearing from his throat, and still, he did not look away. Not until the sobs drove him to his knees. But Adam stood, using himself as a living shield for Blake, and ran through the stampede. Bullets struck his back and while painful, his Aura held out long enough for him to return to the Warehouse and out of range.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The hospital room was a concrete pen with a window the size of a biscuit tin lid. It had a stagnant smell like it’s cleaned with plain water instead of disinfectant. The bed sat low to the ground; the frame baring the signs of rust and the mattress thin. But in Mantle, any hospital in the decaying metropolis is better than none. The ‘hospital’ was little more than an abandoned mansion of an obscure Atlesian noble, on the outskirts of the city centre. But when Atlas raised itself above its unsafe former kingdom, the people left behind had seized this mansion for their own use and flown in the medical staff and supplies they required. Now the generous sized bedrooms and the lounge areas became wards, only the dining room and kitchens kept their original purpose.</p><p> </p><p>Adam, Ghira and Kali had strewn themselves across the floor. In rickety chairs or on the dusty ground. Blake, unconscious and connected to an IV drip and a heart-monitor, mumbled in his sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“I failed you both, I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghira gazed at his eldest son, “What do you mean Addy?”  </p><p> </p><p>“I promised to protect him,” Adam rubbed his face, “and he almost died on my watch.”</p><p> </p><p>Kali strode over to the bull Faunus and placed her hand on Adam’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of monsters Adam - Blake is alive because of you; you saved your brother, and you kept your promise.”</p><p> </p><p>She placed a kiss on his forehead and left the room.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened to-”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re dead, Baba, as they should be.”</p><p> </p><p>The son and the father stared into each other’s eyes. Ghira’s glare overwhelmed the boy, and he warned him:</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t let their hate consume son, it will help no one – not even yourself.”</p><p> </p><hr/><h2>
  <strong>MANTLE: INNER CITY – The Miner’s Ghetto</strong>
</h2><hr/><p> </p><p>The streets had blackened by the thick pollution emitting from the factories. The road is a monochrome patchwork, each one lined with a shiny border of tar. Despite these fixes, cracks and potholes gaped in the road. The trees that were once youthful saplings became gnarled embittered trees growing tall but without strength, competing against the towering apartment blocks. Their bark is mossy from the perennial dampness and incessant rain, except a few weeks of reprieve in the summer months. The sidewalk had the debris of the moulting trees slobbered over it. Blake heard water gushing from the sink into the grate, the dropping of a pail, the clink of a coal shovel and the banging of a door. Miners - with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, who have long since stopped trying to scrub the Dust off their broken nails and the lines of their sunken faces - passed Blake in the back of trucks. His eyes flicked over to Kali and Azura in a medical tent. Burned, Dust covered miners, whined and cried over their injuries.</p><p> </p><p>A Dust mine had caved in after a cart derailed and exploded.</p><p> </p><p>15,000 people died.</p><p> </p><p>Only 1,000 could be rescued.</p><p> </p><p>The injured Faunus had their appendages missing. Flames and debris had scorched humans to the point of disfigurement. Others would never walk again. The women soothed their loved ones and rubbed cheap healing balms into wounds.</p><p> </p><p> “Blake?” Ilia shook his shoulder, “Can I talk to you?”</p><p> </p><p> The boy motioned to the 11 litres of stew he was stirring.</p><p> </p><p> “I’m kinda busy, Lia.”</p><p> </p><p>Garnet took the Ladle from Blake, gesturing for them to go. Ilia took her best friend’s hand and ran to an obscure corner. Despite the earlier desperation in her tone, she kept quiet in private. Blake stared at Adam; handing out clothes, shoes and books to the elderly. Faunus children dashed around his heels. But years of having Blake as his brother made him able to keep his balance. Other members of the Fang did the same, handing out Energy Dust crystals from the latest train heist to Humans and Faunus alike.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m joining the Almanac Combat School.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?!”</p><p> </p><p>The exclamation echoed in the pitch-black alleyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you lost your mind?” he continued, “You won’t last a week in there!”</p><p> </p><p>Ilia couldn’t look him in the eyes, much to Blake’s chagrin. She shuffled and rubbed her arm – blue orbs flicking around the bleak scenery.</p><p> </p><p>“Blake, look at this place, tell me what you see.”</p><p> </p><p>Confused, the 13-year-old Belladonna complied, “I see injured people from the mine, people passing out food-”</p><p> </p><p>“No, really look at the state of this place – look at where I live!”</p><p> </p><p>Tears appeared in her eyes. Her body trembled and hand clenched tight. Her skin turned a sickly chartreuse colour while her hair and dark spots turning violet. Shame, cowardice, and frustration bared for the world to see. However, she suppressed it; faster than Blake could ever remember her doing.</p><p> </p><p>Like she had… practised.</p><p> </p><p>The young Amitola sighed: “You know what I see?” she narrowed her eyes, “I see pure sorrow – we fight the system, and we get shot at, but if we play their game, we have a chance of having more than… this.”</p><p> </p><p>Blake shook his head, unable to comprehend how Ilia could give up on the fight.</p><p> </p><p>“You would hide your heritage for some cushy life in Atlas?”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked.</p><p> </p><p>“If it means I can get my parents out of those mines and away from this dump, then a thousand times yes.”</p><p> </p><p>No words came to Belladonna, so she proceeded.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no future here Blake, I don’t want to die in a cave and I can’t let that be Mum and Dad’s fate either – I can pass for a Human so I’ll be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>His Captain’s hat concealed his eyes, which glared at the snowy ground.</p><p> </p><p>“How much will you be giving up to be like <em>them?”</em></p><p> </p><p>The growl in his tone made the chameleon Faunus step back. Anger picked up in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Sienna and Adam were right, people are giving up; and now?” he pointed a frozen finger at her, “My best friend is running away to pretend to be a Human, an Atlesian at that; like a spineless, selfish runt!”</p><p> </p><p>Shock rippled through Ilia’s form. She would never believe that a slur like that would ever leave Blake’s mouth – let alone be directed at her. He expected her skin to change but got a pitiful flash of blue, but her skin remained the same. Blake’s lipped curled, his nostrils flared, and his cat ears flayed back in irritation. His mind felt as if lead were coursing through it instead of blood. once sunny childhood memories of his closest friend now appeared tarred, mangled into something grotesque. Belladonna couldn’t bear to look her way, because if they made eye-contact he thought he might gag.</p><p> </p><p>Disgust.</p><p> </p><p>Total disgust.</p><p> </p><p>As he stomped away, cheeks red, Ilia tried to stop him from leaving. Blake threw her off, pivoting suddenly. His mouth opened, desperate to leave a scathing message, a witty remark, anything to ease the pain in his heart. However, the traitor wore his friend’s face. The face he grew up and fought with. Her damn blue orbs, shining with tears in the Atlesian moonlight; her quivering form, seconds away from breaking down into sobs. No bone in his body wanted to be responsible for any more of her heartache. He had to fight the instinct to hold her and apologise.</p><p> </p><p>But her skin stayed the same. Even she teetered on the verge of tears.</p><p> </p><p>She looked like a human. </p><p> </p><p>Blake slumped and his retort died on his tongue. Turning away, he left a crying Ilia behind to resume his charity work.</p><p> </p><hr/><h2>
  <strong>MENAGERIE: Jungle Outback</strong>
</h2><hr/><p> </p><p>The jungle folded around Blake like it was taking possession of him. Nights in Menagerie during Summer were brutal – no matter how exposed your skin was or how light your clothing, one will always end up drenched in sweat. Blake took a swig of water, his monochrome ears perking up, and let out a long sigh. He stretched the fingers of his right hand, before re-clasping the handle of Gambol Shroud. The fingerless gloves had kept the blisters at bay, but his palm ached.</p><p> </p><p>A small meadow emerged from the twisting vines and clumps of trees. Moon rays break through the cracks, lighting up the area, decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves. Blake trudged on, collecting in the fragrance of minty grass and the damp earth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Crack!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He stalled. Feline ears fluttered and his nose flared to detect any foreign smells. Footsteps stormed towards him. Heavy and fast, the pattern irregular, and it messed with his hearing. Then they stopped as a figure burst out from the canopy.</p><p> </p><p>Wilt slammed against the large Cleaver. Red against Black.</p><p> </p><p>Squeezing the trigger, Belladonna left a Fire Dust shadow as he slid back, the clone exploding instantly. The Bull recovered, using his night vision to shoot down the Cat from a tree. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the miffed expression on Blake’s face.</p><p> </p><p>They circled each other. Refusing to break eye-contact, they halted. Crouched low. </p><p> </p><p>Blake’s heart thundered in his chest. Breathes came out in short bursts; the thrill of battle firing up his Aura. The stale air of the island crackled with anxious power. Moonlight danced behind them, colouring the glade in a blue filter. Neither faltered at the intense heat. Wildlife chattered in the far distance. Adam flexed his fingers. Belladonna’s facial muscles trembled. The elder stepped forward. On impulse, the junior pulled up a guard. Adam nicked the opened side of the young Faunus, and he wailed out in pain. Empowered by his fury, Blake snapped back, and the dance began. Once separated, the katana and cleaver weaved through the air, striking at their opponent with precision and strength behind each swing. Wilt matched it with dominating offsets and strong blocks – sharp and deadly. Under the Grimm mask, a blue eye glimmered with pride for his foe. </p><p>  </p><p>Adam spun the red Katana upwards, disrupting the course of Blake’s counter. The 14-year-old stumbled back. Taurus lunged for her exposed abdomen. A few clones later, the two had scaled the jungle trees before landing on a long branch. Blake whipped his ribbon on a branch and catapulted it towards Adam. Without flinching, Blush fired the shot that decimated the wood. Several metres above the floor, on a thin platform, the dance paused. Adam shuffled closer. Blake flourished his Katana and stepped backwards. The weapons struck and parried.</p><p> </p><p>Then stopped. </p><p> </p><p>Shuffle forward, shuffle back. </p><p> </p><p>They lurched and parried in rapid succession. The red sword tried to gut its opponent, but a ribbon wrapped around the tool and held it in place. Adam boxed the youth in the face, releasing his blade and swung high. It passed a hair’s breadth from Blake’s eye. Closer and closer they got to one another and the battle turned riskier. Maybe he felt impetuous or intimidated; for whatever reason, Blake swiped at his brother’s legs to break the deadlock. Taurus fell for it and brought Wilt downwards. Blake summoned an ice shadow clone, causing Wilt and Adam to stumble backwards. The cleaver slammed into Taurus and he seized Blake’s strip, dragging the boy with him through the canopy. Even in the air, the fight didn’t stop. Kicks, punches, and smacks – the brothers brawled. Wind licked at their ears, rippling through their clothes. Bugs hit them on their wild fall but the tiny collisions on their bare arms did nothing to deter them. Blake grabbed Adam and forced him to take the brunt of the branches slamming into them. In retaliation, Adam kneed his brother to the ground as he fell on top. The cleaver slid aside.</p><p> </p><p>Purple and Red Aura flickered.</p><p> </p><p>On their last legs, the duo wailed at each other. Adam knocked the Katana away and rammed his horns into Blake’s gut. The boy flew into a tree and his Aura shattered. Laughter echoed through the forest over the huffs of the younger Belladonna.</p><p> </p><p>“You almost got me, Kit!”</p><p> </p><p>Adam jogged over to his exhausted brother to help him up. </p><p> </p><p>“Did you have to shatter my Aura?”</p><p> </p><p>“Were you going to stop if I didn’t?” </p><p> </p><p>The teen pouted but remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s what I thought – come on, Ima has probably finished dinner by now.”</p><p> </p><p>They trekked back through the forest. Adam shuffled, unnerved by Blake’s silence. He tapped him on the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, ever since we got back from the SDC mission, you’ve been… off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have I?”</p><p> </p><p>His tone was bland, his eyes drifting away from the path. Away from his brother.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you and Ilia fighting again?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did someone bring a dog near you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you on your period?”</p><p> </p><p>“What- <em>No!”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Then tell me what’s up, you always tell me if something’s wrong and that doesn’t change, even if you’re growing into Ima’s ‘big, strong man’.”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled as his baby brother shoved him into the foliage. The mood mellowed as Blake spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just Sienna has been getting more violent in Mistral and I fear that she’s forcing Baba’s ideals out – he told us that by harming innocents we become the monsters we’re fighting against but I realise that more and more people are getting caught in the crossfire and Sienna’s encouraging it.”</p><p> </p><p>Taurus kept quiet.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s only part of it; we’re kidnapping people now!”</p><p> </p><p>“Baba also did that.”</p><p> </p><p>“But he held them for ransom and returned them unharmed and fed until the ransom was paid; this life for a life deals – the people that Khan takes are never seen again and when they are, they’re reported dead by the news!”</p><p> </p><p>Belladonna paced, and his brother stopped to watch him. He took off his Grimm mask to put on his red silk bandana and held Blake’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Kit, I admit – that Sienna has been more extreme lately but understand this:”</p><p> </p><p>Amber eyes met blue.</p><p> </p><p>“Those bystanders in that mission were Schnee’s people who don’t protest against the system that subjugates the marginalised.”</p><p> </p><p>Adam’s tone had a robotic tint to it like he was reiterating a speech he had memorised. Blake ignored it.</p><p> </p><p>“They have lives too Addy, not everyone can just overturn everything for our cause.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that makes it okay for them to do nothing and benefit from that system?”</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Every time someone does nothing, others think it’s okay to do nothing, then no one does anything but watch people suffer – what we’re doing is horrible, but if we become the monsters that incite change, the next generation can have a happier future, then the end is worth the means.” </p><p> </p><p>Adam wasn’t wrong. Over the years Humans have withdrawn their support of the Fang now that they had been demanding for more social changes instead of community support. But… </p><p> </p><p>“Violence begets more violence brother; fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate and hate leads to suffering – if our actions are just going to make Humanity hate us more, then-” </p><p> </p><p>“Then we fight harder, I don’t care if they respect us out of tolerance or fear – I want freedom, not their <em>feelings</em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Annoyed, Taurus resumed the walk home as Blake stared at his back. He looked over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“Our father taught us well, he’s a great man, but has his methods ever given us results like Sienna’s had?” </p><p> </p><p>Ashamed of how quickly he answered, Blake, looked down.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><hr/><h2>
  <strong>MENAGERIE: CHIEFTAN'S ESTATE  – Belladonna Household</strong>
</h2><hr/><p> </p><p>Blake and Adam entered their father’s study. The living room was with the vintage wall sconces that hung on the walls like earrings. Thin velvet curtains hid the long windows across the walls, just leaving a shy peak of the woods beyond. Two antique couches stood on the opposite sides of each on the hand-woven rug in front of the ashen fireplace, accompanied by bronze wing-chairs that stood as sidekicks. The paintings and faded tapestry panels on the walls seem to blink at the brothers as they entered.</p><p> </p><p>Blake sunk in one couch and Adam remained standing.</p><p> </p><p>After two years, Adam still disliked their new home. The new shininess of it all, disconnected with the suffering world made him feel awkward. Ghira and Kali never forced him to accept it. They grew used to the long lengths of time he spent at White Fang bases to get away.</p><p> </p><p>Kali paced behind her husband, rubbing her lips as Ghira tapped his pen on his desk. The winter solstice decorations hung across the study, dim like the holiday mood compared to when they put them up. Taurus spoke, worry laced in his tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Ima, Baba; what’s the matter?”</p><p> </p><p>Their father glanced at their mother and motioned to sit in front of him. The matriarch of the Belladonna family wrapped an arm around her husband.</p><p> </p><p>“The Belladonna clan have been fighting since the Civil War; I met your mother doing community work, I found you, Adam, when evacuating a mine and taught Sienna all she knows about leadership.” He chuckled, “I remember the day when Adam, Sienna and I were evacuating a village as quickly as possible to see your birth, Blake.”</p><p> </p><p>The Patriarch teared up, breath harsh. Sparing a glance, the brothers tensed in their chairs. Dread seeped from their hearts and pooled in their stomachs.</p><p> </p><p>“I remember our first march as a family; no matter how horrible that day was, we did it together and for those short happy moments I thought there was no luckier man than me because of the family that loved and stood by me.”</p><p> </p><p>He closed his eyes and his mate placed a kiss on his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“I am proud of the men that you two have become, well… Blake is almost there but my point still stands – your mother and I did a good job, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Blake gave a watery smile. Adam rubbed his eye.</p><p> </p><p>“You did Baba and we’re thankful, but… where are you going with this?” </p><p> </p><p>Kali stepped up once Ghira’s jaw locked in place. Her own hazel/amber orbs watered with tears. </p><p> </p><p>“Boys, from tomorrow evening we’ll be stepping down as High Leaders of the Fang.” </p><p> </p><p>They said nothing. White knuckles from clenching her fist too hard, and gritted teeth from the effort to stay silent, her hunched form exuded an animosity was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. Her face was red with suppressed rage. </p><p> </p><p>“Sienna will take over and Adam will take her position as Commander of the Vale division and we’ll be governing Menagerie full time.”</p><p> </p><p>Adam’s chair flew backwards as he stood. Blake’s insides were in chaos. Something was bothering him. Something was hurting him. Something felt so wrong, but he couldn’t tell what. He tried to pinpoint the cause for this unexplained pain but failed. He tried to reason with this unbearable burning but didn’t find any. Everything felt so confused, just like a jumbled set of a puzzle.</p><p> </p><p>“Traitors!”</p><p> </p><p>Adam sobbed, his pain and anger swirling into a single form. He combed his hands through his hair, blubbered, pointed and whined, but nothing came out. Kali stepped closer, but her eldest flinched back, his eyes chalked full of betrayal. Blake escaped his catatonic state.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Kali answered, her voice wavering.</p><p> </p><p>“Over the years we’ve seen so many of our friends die, so many reports of suffering and pain – it’s too much for us to cope with, we’re tired, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p><p>Adam growled.</p><p> </p><p>“So, you dump the responsibility on your protégée so you can live in a mansion and turn your back on the people who need you?”</p><p> </p><p>Ghira joined the argument.</p><p> </p><p>“Sienna has been leading the Fang in all but in name, she is ready.”</p><p> </p><p>Blake stood, unable to bear being so close to the source of his anguish. Adam had long since left the room.</p><p> </p><p>“That isn’t the issue Baba – word it how you like, but what you’re doing is giving up!”</p><p> </p><p>Ghira slammed his hands on his table, his own golden orbs baring on his youngest cub.</p><p> </p><p>“Are we supposed to fight forever, supposed to let hundreds of deaths rest on our shoulders, to command a movement is already following another leader?”</p><p> </p><p>“I-”</p><p> </p><p>“For ten years Blake, we have fought, we helped, we got hurt, shot at, beaten, dragged our babies into this war and there’s nothing to show for it!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a coward!”</p><p> </p><p>“If spending my last years with my mate is cowardice, then yes, son, I am a coward!”</p><p> </p><p>Adam slammed the door open, suitcases in both hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Then we’ll let you that fantasy, but I want no part in it – as far as you’re concerned, you never adopted me.”</p><p> </p><p>He turned to his baby brother. Blake paused, gazing between his parents and his big brother. He moved.</p><p> </p><p>With a suitcase in hand and a brother by his side, Blake left his parents with the last words they would hear from him for the next few years.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, we’ll finish what you’ve started, but we’ll die trying and won’t become cowards like you.”</p><p> </p><hr/><h2>
  <strong>FOREVER FALL FOREST – The Red Sea Railroad</strong>
</h2><hr/><p> </p><p>Adam fell to his knee. As he sheathed Wilt, the caboose blew up. Fire soared to the sky and the train cabins behind them tumbled off the track, machines and living soldiers inside. Flames singed falling red leaves and ashes danced with the wind. He ran over the remaining carts to catch up to his brother. As for the teen, he stared at the red foliage speeding past. Conflict swirled in his golden orbs, then cemented as guilt.</p><p> </p><p>He opened his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I-”</p><p> </p><p>Adam raised his hand. He knew this day would come; he didn’t lose faith in his brother’s will to fight, he just wished he was there to see it.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, Kit.”</p><p> </p><p>Gambol Shroud in hand, Blake decoupled the train from Adam’s cart. Silent tears streamed down his caramel face.</p><p> </p><p>“Love you, Addy.”</p><p> </p><p>Taurus held back a sob; his vision blurred by tears and pain hidden behind the mask of a monster.</p><p> </p><p>“Love you too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>6. The Lore Going Forwards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"><strong>The Creatures of Grimm</strong> </span>
</p><p>Animals of darkness that are attracted to negative emotion and active Aura. Some can also induce negative emotions, the primary one being fear  - stronger Grimm are drawn to/cause different negative emotions. They hunt all sorts of animals but mainly target Humans/Faunus and frequently attack their creations. It is believed that the Grimm exists for the sole purpose of destroying Mankind. When killed they leave behind brittle bones – particularly faceplates- which shows the difficulty of the kill so that payment for Hunters can be made. Broken faceplates are common so are worth much less compared to full ones. The rest of their body stays for an hour before fading into Iqur (a wine-red liquid substance that seeps into the ground).</p><p>Grimm have classes, which determine the level of difficulty of the kill equal to the Grimm’s worth [gets progressively harder to kill]:</p><ul>
<li>The Fledgling Class [C-Class]</li>
<li>The Standard Class [B-Class]</li>
<li>The King Class [A-Class]</li>
<li>The Superior Class [S-Class]</li>
<li>The Ancient Class [SS-Class]</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Young Grimm are called Fledglings. They have no bone armour, are easy to kill, have little economic worth and their lack of experience makes them incompetent predators. Combat Schools/Hunter Academies have their students fight this variation of Grimm as training. Older Grimm are wiser and stronger, some even learning not to attack Humanity and Faunus at all even in close contact. This kind of Grimm is called Church Grimm. This allows scientists to study Grimm anatomy. There even Church Grimm zoos and travelling circuses. </p><p> </p><p>The true origins of the Grimm are unknown.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Aura</strong> </span>
</p><p>The manifestation of an individual’s soul that is used to protect themselves from injury [not from pain]. It can passively heal users over a period of time when it is not put under stress. The average population doesn’t have enough Aura to matter and thus can’t use it as Huntsmen and Warriors can. But everyone has some Aura which is how Grimm hunt them.</p><p>Aura is unlocked when:</p><ul>
<li>An individual is in a very stressful situation - this is called Forced Unlock</li>
<li>An unlocking ceremony is performed - this method costs money to get done</li>
<li>Meditating - this is called Peaceful Unlock</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Aura is typically measured in percentages in tournaments, no matter the difference in Aura strength between combatants.</p><p> </p><p>Different indicators show your Aura status level:</p><ul>
<li>Shimmering light that covers the body when activating.</li>
<li>Flickering light showing that one’s Aura is in the Red Zone (RZ).</li>
<li>A final burst of light to indicate complete Aura depletion like the activation indicator.</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Aura regenerates slowly over time, healing any injury save for dismemberment and fatal wounds. It does not prevent pain, even during use. Aura can also be infused into weapons, allowing bullets to curve in mid-air or a weapon being the main conduit for one’s Semblance.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Semblance</strong> </span>
</p><p>Much harder to unlock compared to Aura, some Hunters never discover their Semblance at all. Semblance is the equivalent of a superpower. Most Semblances are ‘unique’ – but many are similar i.e. Nora, Yang and Adam’s abilities involve using an external force to make themselves stronger - with the exception being the hereditary types like the Schnee and Rose families.</p><p> </p><p>A user can use their Semblance once their Aura has been depleted but it can be physically harmful without it i.e Yang's fire could burn her and Ruben's speed will cause muscle tears/cramps. Overuse of one's Semblance for prolonged periods may adversely affect its user at certain times. Exhaustion and the slow draining of Aura are the general effects. Emotional turmoil or stress can affect one's use of Semblance, either negatively or positively. A Semblance can be uncontrollable and/or permanently active. Additionally, it may even be possible for a Semblance to affect one's surroundings.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Dust</strong> </span>
</p><p>The equivalent of the modern world’s fossil fuels. However, Dust crystals have the capability of releasing the power of the elements, which makes them useful in combat. Raw Dust is dangerous to use so companies like the SDC mine Dust, refine it and make it applicable to weaponry and artillery. The major religion in Remnant believes Dust was a gift from the Creator’s children so that Humanity and the Faunus could protect themselves from the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>There are 4 primary types of Dust:</p><ul>
<li>Fire [Tiger Red]</li>
<li>Water [Arctic Blue]</li>
<li>Earth [Chocolate Brown]</li>
<li>Wind [Spring Green]</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>These can be combined to make secondary Dust types like Ice Dust [Water + Wind] and Magma Dust [Fire + Earth]. Water and Earth or Water and Fire dust cancel each other out. Wind and Fire/Magma Dust can cause massive explosions.</p><p> </p><p>There also miscellaneous Dust types:</p><ul>
<li>Lightning [Yellow]</li>
<li>Energy [Lilac/Cobalt/White]</li>
<li>Gravity [Purple-black]</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Hunter Academies</strong> </span>
</p><p>Before the establishment of the four Academies, combat training came exclusively from the many combat schools throughout the Kingdoms. Almost 80 years before the events of Volume 2, the Great War came to its conclusion, and the peace secured at the island of Vytal saw to the creation of the Academies, one to each of the Four Kingdoms. The Academies would train Huntsmen and Huntresses, whose sole purpose it would be to battle the Grimm and protect Humanity and Faunus kind. Huntsmen and Huntresses would have the freedom to work for whomever they wished and choose whatever types of jobs they wished to take from mission boards located within the school or city centre.</p><p> </p><p>Hunters-In-Training study the following mandatory subjects:</p><ul>
<li>Armed &amp; Unarmed Combat</li>
<li>Law &amp; Conduct</li>
<li>Modern History</li>
<li>Fieldcraft &amp; Survival</li>
<li>Public Relations</li>
<li>Sociology &amp; Psychology</li>
<li>Herbology</li>
<li>Dust Theory</li>
<li>Infrastructure &amp; Relief Work</li>
<li>Stealth &amp; Recon</li>
<li>Weaponry &amp; Forging</li>
<li>Leadership Training (For Team leaders only)</li>
<li>Teamwork &amp; Bonding </li>
</ul><p> </p><p>A Hunter doesn’t <em>have</em> to go to the Academies, as the government administer tests to get a Hunter’s license. These tests are incredibly difficult and the pass rates for them are low. However, Academies guarantee the license upon graduation so the competitiveness of school entries [and at Combat Schools – the precursor to the Academies] is intense. That and it looks good on a Resume and it has an improved chance at being employed. Hunter Licences mean that a person over the age of 21 has the ability to hunt Grimm, get paid for their work and to perform non-Grimm related work e.g. guarding a village.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>The 4 Kingdoms and The Vytal Republic</strong> </span>
</p><p>Vale, Vacuo, Mistral, and Atlas – the major powers in the world of Remnant and the much smaller Republic of Vytal They all have a different system of operating. </p><p> </p><ul>
<li><strong>Vacuo:</strong></li>
</ul><p>Formerly a society of separate tribes, reminiscent of the Polynesian tribes, this Queendom was rich with resources so relations between tribes were calm. Faunus and Humans also had good relations. Due to the Grimm and the other nations, the tribes of Vacuo banded together under a Faunus warrior Queen named Serena Khan. The Vacuan society emphasizes happiness and relaxation became a natural deterrent for the Grimm.</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><strong>Vale:</strong></li>
</ul><p>A Kingdom that has the same history as the British Monarchy, with the power of the Monarchy being chained down to better represent the people and a parliament [The High Council] are truly the ones in power but the King does have more power than the British King/Queen. The Valian society focuses on enlightenment and fulfilment to deter Grimm, believing negative emotions should typically be expressed during immediate emotional and physical pain. Art and self-expression are the primary values of the Kingdom so relations between Humans and Faunus are equal. It is the second least racist Kingdom against the Faunus.</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><strong>Atlas:</strong></li>
</ul><p>Formerly known as the Kingdom of Mantle. It is not a traditional monarchy, but the structure of leadership is similar – instead of the title of ‘King’ or ‘Queen’, the leader is named <em>‘The Architect'</em>. The leadership is in the following order:</p><ul>
<li>The Architect</li>
<li>The Grand General</li>
<li>The Atlesian Military</li>
<li>The Atlesian Council</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>The cold climate was a natural deterrent to Grimm but the populous had to develop technology quickly to defend themselves against the extreme weather. The society is far more prone to negative emotions as a result and the average Atlesian citizen is generally unpleasant. The Kingdom is naturally militaristic with patrols and military parades being very common. The culture thrives on community effort and quickly developed into a socialist government, with emphasis on teamwork, success, and the shunning of self-expression. Despite these values, the Atlesian population are classist/elitist and believe the impoverished deserved their poor lives/they <em>have</em> to have their poor lives. Those people - a majority being Faunus - typically live in the decrepit Old Kingdom of Mantle. </p><p> </p><p>Atlas’ population was mainly Faunus, who are adapted to the cold. Their cousins were forced to develop quickly to survive creating a lot of animosity towards them. When mining and hard labour became common, the Faunus were easy targets of Slave Labour. This reduced the Faunus population, making the Humans the dominant sub-species and fractured relations. Atlas quickly became known as the most racist Kingdom in Remnant's history.</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><strong>Mistral:</strong></li>
</ul><p>This kingdom was ruled by an Emperor, who rose to power through infighting and subterfuge. Mistral was formerly two separate entities Mistral and the Orion Alliance. The Southern part Mistral was influenced by Asian culture, valuing the seasons because their economy was based on food and farming. The Orion Alliance in the North was influenced by the Greek and Persian cultures - valuing wealth [metals and gems were the main exports], trade and military might. After the Great War, the Alliance was annexed, creating the Mistralian Empire. </p><p> </p><p>The Kingdom has a hot climate with beautiful mountain views, forests, jungles and oases. While the land is incredible the citizenry is less so. Like their ally Atlas, the Kingdom is elitist. They are a standard Capitalist society (influenced by the values of the North) and their society prides itself on wealth and beauty. The poor have little to no access to these riches so crime syndicates are rampant in the streets. The Emperor and his military care little for what the poor do - since the syndicates only exploit the poor. The police and most Hunters care very little either.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of which, Hunters in Mistral are not the fairytale heroes in the books. Their society values money and so they value money - some have forsaken their noble titles to become glorified Bounty Hunters. The towns/villages outside of the Kingdom's walls can't afford to hire Hunters to protect them from Grimm as the payment rate for Hunters is incredibly high. However, in the event of a Grimm attack in the Capital or a gathering of Grimm near the Capital, they are obligated to defend the Emperor and his citizens.</p><p> </p><p>The Kingdom have close relations with Atlas as they were allied against Vale and Vacuo in the Great War and Faunus Civil War. Like Atlas, they are incredibly hostile against the Faunus, mainly out of fear that interracial relationships will eventually lead to the extinction of the human race. This way of thinking is backwards as Faunus have low birth rates and a child between a Human and Faunus have a 10% chance of being conceived and a 50% chance of that child being a Faunus. They have invisible signs of racial segregation almost everywhere and some are blatant about their hate for the Faunus and refuse to give them service or employ them. Unemployment is common among Faunus - many groups band together to create illegal settlements (that get knocked down by the Army). Standard employment for them is hard labour.</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><strong>The Vytal Republic </strong></li>
</ul><p>Founded by Silver Eyed warriors, the Republic is a mix of all the Kingdoms' cultures. They separated themselves from the other nations during the Great War. They decided the terms of the Peace Treaty and created (with the King of Vale's help) the Vytal Tournament alongside developing the Hunter Academies. Like our world's Atlantis story, Vytal was a major powerhouse of knowledge and technology in the early days of humanity (20,000+ years ago) before a major earthquake caused untold devastation by irritating untapped Dust caves/veins. The island hasn't truly recovered. It is, however, the second-largest exporter of Energy behind Atlas but just energy as the Dust can't be mined due to the hostile climate and risks of destroying the island entirely.</p><p>The incident led to 5 major biomes existing on the tiny island despite it being on the equator:</p><ul>
<li>
<strong>The Grand Peaks -</strong> Massive mountains and uneven terrain; lots of waterfalls and hills.</li>
<li>
<strong>The Frozen Glades -</strong> Giant spires of Ice rise from the ground, sometimes geysers erupt due to the Magma, Fire and Wind Dust veins underneath.</li>
<li>
<strong>The Hellscape -</strong> Volcanoes and lava fields mainly but life still grows (like the new Nether in Minecraft).</li>
<li>
<strong>The Stormont -</strong> Lost of Energy, Lightning and Wind Dust located here; there are frequent lightning storms and it is always flooding and windy (like Britain).</li>
<li>
<strong>Ad Punctum In Statera -</strong> Also mountainous but not as extreme as the Grand Peaks; a perfect mix of every climate and is the most hospitable biome.</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>The Faunus</strong> </span>
</p><p>Humanity's sister race that posses animal traits such as tails, claws, feathers etc. They either evolved from a shared common ancestor with Humans [scientific explanation] or they were created out of spite for the Humans but discovered independence [religious explanation]. Most Faunus are mammalian but those that hail from extreme climates have evolved to reflect the creatures living there i.e. chameleon Faunus have a cloaking ability. Bug/Arachnid Faunus are very rare. Faunus possess heightened senses like night vision and improved senses.</p><p> </p><p>There are drawbacks to being a Faunus which is why they are subjected to racism:</p><p> </p><p><strong>Technology-</strong> Because their animal traits made pre-modern survival easy, the Faunus society was universally stunted and made it easier for powerful Humans to enslave them. Modern living is also difficult because of noise and light sensitivity.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Animal Instinct-</strong> Faunus have dangerously low birth rates. With each other, it is a 15% chance of conception and with Humans, it is a 10% chance. Evolution has made the species develop a countermeasure: Heat Cycles. These occur once a month for 3 days once a Faunus child is 10-16 years old (beginning of Puberty). Pills countered this monthly phenomenon to reduce the time spent off work slaving in the Mines. Modern Living is frustrating due to the irritation following an unfulfilled Heat. </p><p> </p><p><strong>Humanity's superior/inferiority complex -</strong> With the Faunus’ extraordinary abilities that makes them outperform Humans in many situations, many Humans were jealous of their cousin and found any way to subjugate them to satisfy their false pride. Some fear mongered, telling ignorant populations that the Faunus will 'Breed them out of existence' or telling people that the Faunus can go savage and are no different from their animal counterparts. Like the BLM/Black Panther movements - governments vilified the organisations trying to uplift Faunus communities, claiming that they are 'terrorists' and only want to dominate Humanity. Unfortunately, the label stuck and some organisations conformed to the backwards ideas.</p>
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